


Checking the Fine Print

by Slythertwit



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Canon Disabled Character, Established Relationship, Hinted that Jack also has amnesia but it is not significant to the plot, I might add some stuff, I swear sorry haha, Little bit of spiciness between the boys, M/M, Modern AU, beware my erratic writing style, hiccup is an artist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-25 13:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13836045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slythertwit/pseuds/Slythertwit
Summary: Art is sucky and really frustrating, and unfortunately Hiccup has to go through the pain-staking method of mastering a new form of media. Jack tries to understand but most of it just goes over his head. That's not to say he doesn't try his best.They also visit the mall in which Jack distracts Hiccup with ice skating.





	Checking the Fine Print

**Author's Note:**

> Can you believe i wrote literal fanfiction for my english class. well i did. Except i put Hiccup and Jack under the guises of "Charlie" and "Lucien" respectively, so my friends wouldn't give me That Look

Hiccup was staring at the messy chicken scratch scrawled across his paper with a frustrated scowl, impatiently tapping the wooden end of his paint brush rather violently against the vinyl desk.

Across the room, his boyfriend looked up from his phone with a grin.

“You’re not about to go off, are you?” Jack teased with faux caution, motioning towards Hiccup’s clicking paint brush.

Normally Jack wouldn’t bother him while he painted, but his expression was that of uncomfortably distressed, so much so that the (bleached) white-haired student felt the need to offer him some support.

Hiccup scowled. “Oh, lay off. Don’t you have something better to do than poke at me all day?” He half-heartedly joked.

To this, Jack raised a skeptical brow.

Wow, if Hiccup’s wit was missing him, then obviously something was wrong. Instead of thinking up a clever comeback he just replied with; “I’m your boyfriend, it’s my job to pester you.”

Jack pushed himself up from the carpeted floorboards to a sitting position. He highly doubted anything Hiccup could create would look anything short of incredible, so he couldn’t really get the issue, but clearly it was upsetting the brunet, which meant that Jack would try to understand for him. Leaning back against the couch, he decided to treat the situation with more sensitivity than he usually would.

“Well, you’ve been tapping your brush against the side of the table long enough to gouge rivets in it; what’s wrong? Maybe I can help.” He offered gently.

At the first half of that comment, Hiccup seemed to fidget sheepishly at being caught out; as though he hadn’t realised he’d been doing it. Then the second part visibly sank in and he recovered quickly, looking down at the white-blonde with a pitiful expression.

“No offense, but you’re hardly the artist. When was the last time you painted?”

Jack shrugged. “I drew on the whiteboards in maths all the time in high school.”

“Right,” Hiccup laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Well then, speaking from personal experience, I’m afraid your creative streak speaks for itself. But for the sake of conversation, I’m trying to figure out why my paint is so chalky when it dries. I just bought these paints new the other month, and I’ve been so careful to keep dust out of them…” He trailed off sadly.

Jack, on the other hand, just looked at him like he’d grown two heads. “Uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck distractedly, not sure what to say.

“Exactly,” Hiccup didn’t give him a chance to respond—realising he probably wouldn’t—before continuing. “ _I_ barely understand it. And it wasn’t just this paint, almost all the brands I’ve tried seem to do the same thing! Except those really nice ones Rapunzel has…” He added as an afterthought.

Hiccup deflated with a sigh, brush limp in his hand beside him. “I was so sure I’d got the right materials this time. Maybe it’s the paper? Should I be using cold-press?” Hiccup continued to ramble.

Jack attempted to actually contemplate that very seriously—or, as seriously as he could while not actually knowing what “chalky” or “cold-press” were.

“Um… Well, alright. Are you sure it’s your paper? Maybe it’s your… uh, paints? Maybe you need different watercolours altogether?” He scratched the side of his head, even more confused by all this new information, desperately trying to recall 8th year visual arts.

Hiccup, however, paused as though considering his boyfriend’s statement. “Huh. You could have a point, honestly. I haven’t exactly done a whole lot of watercolour before, maybe I really should invest in something better, or look online to see if other artists have this problem. I was trying to avoid buying top-end paints cause they’re just so expensive but... I can’t imagine anything that comes out of Target is terribly outstanding.” He chuckled.

Setting down his brush, Hiccup grabbed his laptop sitting unused on the coffee table and settled himself comfortably into one of the living room couches to prepare for the tedious google-ing ahead.

Jack on the other hand almost laughed aloud. _Sorry, what? That random shot in the dark might have been useful? Oh dear._ Jack resisted grinning at Hiccup smugly. And Hiccup had the nerve to call him unartistic.

Apparently though, his expression wasn’t as blank as he’d thought. Jack glanced up to see Hiccup was giving him a look over his laptop that spoke volumes for itself. As nonchalantly as he could Jack hummed and went back to lying on his stomach on the floor, idly scrolling through social media. The frosty-haired student was only really half paying attention, and much of what was read didn’t go very far.

Hiccup didn’t speak as he typed away at his computer. After an indeterminate amount of time (which Jack just decided to label as “half an hour” because that was always a safe bet) Hiccup was suddenly closing his laptop with unnecessary force and crossing the room to swipe his wallet and keys from the kitchen countertop.

“You coming?” He turned and watched Jack expectantly, to which Jack just blinked owlishly.

“What?”

An eye roll. “To help me find some A-grade watercolours.” Hiccup smiled fondly.

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Jack agreed, figuring that being around his boyfriend was always preferable to sitting on his ass all day. He stood up and stretched languidly.

“Hey, wait up! I haven’t even got my shoes on!” Jack cried.

Hiccup had already made his way down the short hallway and out the door, so Jack hurriedly slipped his converse on, stuffed his own wallet and phone in his pocket and chased after him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Right, so do you know what you want?”

“I think so,” Hiccup was scanning the shelves with his critical artist’s eye.

“Alright then. Can I do something to maybe help you look?” Jack suggested, not having anything better to do since everything on display more or less looked the same to him.

A thoughtful hum came from his partner. “Yeah, actually, that would be great. Let me know if you see anything on the paints labelling them as ‘transparent’.” He mused.

“Transparent, got it.” Jack nodded, despite still not having much better of an idea as to what Hiccup wanted.

The two began silently searching the shop’s watercolours section, trying to spot the elusive "transparent" paints. One could only guess what that meant.

Not really knowing what he was trying to look for, and also not having a pair of Critical Artist Eyes, Jack was grateful to be saved from his imminent embarrassment of pointing to the complete opposite thing when he heard a cry of victory from behind him.

“Found em!” Hiccup exclaimed and picked a surprisingly monochromously-coloured box—for something that was supposedly art-related; and wasn’t art all about colour?—from the shelf.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Hiccup had pulled ahead to pay for the new paints, while Jack straggled behind to loiter around the aisles a little longer, just to see what there was.

Dear lord, that was a lot of paint brushes. Who knew the difference between synthetic bristles and real-hair bristles was so momentous? And what was the need for bleed-proof, water-resistant ink anyway? Who was mixing water with their fine-tips? And really, just why were there over seven different types of texture pastes alone? Jack couldn’t recall a single case where he’d heard of someone use ‘glass bead gel’. (Which, truthfully, didn’t say a whole lot, but Jack blissfully ignored this in favour of his argument.)

Jack continued wandering aimlessly down the aisle, steadfastly ignoring a packet of 17 graphite pencils, all of which claimed to have different leads. He decided to stop when he came to the paper and sketchpad display, feeling overly intimidated by all the fancy cotton and wood pulp that likely cost more than all of the stationery he’d ever bought in his entire life combined.

Making his way to the front where Hiccup was gathering up his recently acquired pigments, Jack fleetingly caught the price of the product on the till. Alarmed and very confused as to why someone would spend $90 on a set of 24 tiny squares of what was essentially ground up rocks and other minerals, he concluded that he was very glad he’d never attempted to build on his creative streak (or lack thereof).

The pair exited the shop, and Jack decided that then would be a good time to put _his_ wallet to use.

“Hey, Hiccup, since we’re here we should definitely visit the food court. This would be a waste of a trip otherwise.” He grinned teasingly, poking the brunet in the side.

Hiccup shot him a look, which to Jack’s credit, only _temporarily_ made him falter.

“Oh yeah, how could I have forgotten the entire reason we came here?” Hiccup replied sarcastically, tapping his forehead in a ‘duh’ motion.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page!”

This time Jack took a defensive step back, and rightly so, as he narrowly avoided an awfully impolite shove from his boyfriend.

“Rude,” Jack said, laughing at the artist’s antics. “Seriously though, I’m starving. I require a generous serving of greasy fried rice. And bubble tea.”

Hiccup snorted fondly but didn’t bother to protest or fight as Jack grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowds and down the escalator.

The food court was hectic, as most food courts go, and they struggled to pinpoint a vacant seat among the sea of patrons.

Jack suddenly felt a pressure against his palm and looked up to see Hiccup watching him.

“You find us a table, I’ll go buy the food.” He suggested.

“Such a gentleman.”

Hiccup scoffed. “Just do as I told you, I’ll come find you. Vanilla with rainbow jelly, right?”

To which Jack nodded and grabbed Hiccup’s bag of paints from him, watching as he retreated back through the crowd.

Jack hummed and looked around him. There wasn’t much space, the only free table near him was ajoined to another one which was occupied, and a few others had rubbish on them which he was feeling too lazy to move. Not to mention it wasn’t _his_  responsibility. Gross people.

The frosty-haired young adult decided that he’d move further down the court and look for something closer to where the big-brand fast food restaurants were. It had less tables, but more room to move around, which was his main concern at that point, especially after a near-miss with a grouchy looking customer carrying a huge tray of soupy noodle dishes. The floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the ice rink were also further along, and it was a general rule of thumb that the seats beside those were the best ones.

Jack stopped in his new location and did a procedural scan of the area. Not much different from the last space. He did however, notice what appeared to be a small family packing up at a table directly perpendicular to the broad glass of the ice rink’s windows. 

 _Bingo, bingo, bingo! Oh thank god, please be leaving soon._  Jack was silently praying to any and all listening deities that he could get the seats quickly so that he wouldn’t have to awkwardly hang around like a fool for minutes on end.

Thankfully, the food court gods were happy with him that day, and granted him access to the beautifully ostentatious table. They were also kind enough to inspire the previous users to take their rubbish with them. _What a day!_

After a grossly awkward smile at the leaving patrons that Jack thoroughly regretted, he let himself sit down on the hard plastic of one of three chairs, victoriously dumping his boyfriend’s bag on the top to claim further right over the pieces of furniture.

Jack could feel the diluted bite of hunger begin to eat at his stomach, demanding that he feed it immediately. He sadly had to deny it for the time being, and instead to kill some minutes decided to look over Hiccup’s new stuff. He pulled the box from its plastic bag noisily and turned it over a few times to absent-mindedly read the product information. It was boringly average and even more uninteresting. He supposed it probably meant a lot to an actual artist, and it was common knowledge that he was not an artist. After a few minutes of attempting to understand the various other language translations on the back, Jack saw a figure out of the corner of his eye drop a container of fried rice before him and heavily take the seat across the table.

Jack looked up to meet lovely green.

“What did you get?” He asked, peering curiously at Hiccup’s plate.

“Pad Thai. Can never go wrong.”

Jack gave an approving nod. _Very true._

The blonde put down his boyfriend’s stuff and started eating his rice. Hiccup had his phone up and appeared to be reading something on it.

“Hiccup, put your phone down while you eat, geez. Where’s the etiquette? Your lovely Pad Thai is going to go cold.” Jack teased with a grin.

Hiccup raised a rather unimpressed eyebrow. “I thought you loved the cold?” He said, and he was hiding a smile.

Jack made a noise of mock hurt, because _this was different!_ But decided he should cut Hiccup some slack, just this once, and not reply.

As he ate his rice, he watched the skaters lapping the rink. As always, the best skaters were in the middle, looking totally effortless, while the less inclined had found a sturdy support out of the barriers. Jack snickered as a man who was showing off to his friends fell back on his ass, suddenly looking a lot less egotistical. And then he got an idea.

“Hey. Hiccup. We should go ice skating.” Jack’s face lit up with an all-too-wide grin.

Hiccup, on the other hand, just stared at him in disbelief. “You know for a fact that I can’t ice skate. What about my prosthetic?” He spluttered.

“What? You can ice skate. Your leg will be fine, we both know that, don’t try and pull that card on me. Plus, I’ll be there!” He smiled in what he hoped was reassurance.

Jack had a feeling Hiccup hated ice skating, but he did it anyway because he seemed to know somehow that it mattered to Jack a lot more than just superficially.

The brunet caved and smiled shyly back. “Alright. Fine, one hour.” He said seriously, holding up a finger. “Then we go _home_.”

Jack had to resist whooping in victory.

“Deal.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Ugh, these skates are terrible, I should have brought mine along.” Jack whined.

“Don’t you dare start whingeing now, Frost. This was your idea.” Hiccup glared, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“True, you’re right, beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll take what I can get.” Jack couldn’t help his spontaneous grin. “Come on, _Haddock,_  you can’t just hug the barrier all day.”

The brunet gave him another scowl. It always seemed like he was in endless supply.

“Jack I swear to god, if you say another word...” Hiccup groaned.

Laughter spilled from Jack’s lips. He pinched his fingers and brought them to his mouth, mimicking a ‘zipping’ motion. Gently, Jack began to push back on his skates, easing them away from the wall. Hiccup immediately froze with uncertainty. His nervous green eyes glanced up to meet Jack’s, searching for reassurance. The snowy-haired student offered his best smile, dearly hoping that it conveyed his emotions to Hiccup.

Jack felt a little bad for pushing, and was about to suggest they go back, but Hiccup seemed slightly more confident in himself—or maybe that was to make Jack feel better—as he stared at his feet and took the first step towards his boyfriend.

The latter, meanwhile, was beaming. Hiccup took another unsteady step forwards, before pushing his opposing foot down and back, trying to copy the correct movement displayed by other skaters. Jack wasn’t too helpful at the moment, as he was going backwards in order to hold Hiccups hands.

Hiccup’s grip around his boyfriend’s fingers tightened briefly when he felt himself begin to slip. Again, the auburn-haired artist searched blue eyes frantically for support.

”Hey, Hiccup, I’m sorry, it’s okay—we can go back.” Jack said gently.

”Noo, no. No, no. We aren’t going anywhere. I am going to skate the hell out of this ice rink, and you are going to be an excellent teacher. Don’t even try to stop me now.”

Green eyes hardened in determination and Jack cackled. Dear god Hiccup could kick ass when he wanted. Jack doubted he even realised.

Jack paused. The white-haired boy knew that Hiccup wasn’t the most graceful person in the world. Unless it came to art. His art was beautiful and flowing, presenting a strange discord of paradox and emotion. It was rough and violent, like the graffiti scratched into train windows. It was also soft and peaceful, the wind through tired willow boughs. It demanded the mind, it demanded intuition, especially from that of it’s creator. Hiccup was, in all meanings of the word, an artist. Jack knew he sometimes still struggled with his prosthetic, still experienced phantom pains and slackness. But if he was anything like his art, (and obviously Jack knew) then he was determined and proud, and unpredictable in the most amazing ways.

Jack was mostly confident Hiccup would be fine by the end of the day.

“Well, okay then, if you say so. You’re pretty much unstoppable though, so you should be fine. I’d be more worried about the ice.” Jack winked, trying to lift the mood that seemed to have dropped a little along with the temperature.

Hiccup’s expression softened, and he almost looked like he was going to hit Jack for being so mushy, if it weren’t for the hands holding his.

“You’re ridiculous.” He said, but he was openly giggling.

Jack smiled back. “Yeah, and I’m right. Just trust me. Would I trick you?” He rolled his eyes.

“Yes.” The brunet deadpanned.

“Well. _Maybe_ , yes. Not now, though, now I will humbly spare you.”

“How kind.”

Jack let go of Hiccup’s hands. “C’mon, copy what I do. It’s just a matter of...” The former swivelled on his right foot to turn around.

“... Pushing back and out...” He glided forward a few feet.

“... Keep your knees relaxed. And then with the other foot...” He pushed himself forward again, gaining enough momentum to glide effortlessly across the ice. He circled back around, avoiding other skaters as he went, and came back to slide up next to Hiccup again.

“And make sure when you step, you hit the ice with the whole of your blade, not just the front and then the back. So in a way it’s not actually stepping really,” Jack was avidly waving his hands around and stomping his feet for emphasis.

“You know, when you step you hit the ground with the heel of your foot and then flatten it out?” A nod from Hiccup.

“It’s easy to make that mistake here, but we don’t want to be doing that. You’re skating, so all of the blade has to touch the ice at once. Otherwise you trip over yourself.”

Hiccup exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair nervously. On instinct, Jack reached out and threaded their fingers together. His fingers were cold against Hiccup’s warmer ones. The brunet squeezed his hand.

“Okay...” Hiccup trailed off, eyes superglued to his feet, “Okay, walk me through it again. I knew some of that already but I just want to make sure I get it right. Could be all the difference between standing and falling on my sorry gay ass.”

Jack laughed loudly.

Hiccup seemed to have more confidence than previously, especially now that he had Jack’s physical support.

Jack collected himself, nodding in acknowledgement, and began to gently move his feet. He glanced over to his boyfriend to find him studying Jack’s movements and carefully copying them. He kept slow, so his boyfriend would be able to stay on par with him. He had a spontaneous tendency to rush ahead when he was excited, which made it difficult for others (especially those unfamiliar with him) to keep up with his boisterous personality.

Sliding forward a little more this time, Jack clutched Hiccup’s hands tighter when the latter reflexively tensed to stay balanced.

“Lit. So push down and back. Keeping your toes pointed outwards will help you with the movement. Sorry I should have said that earlier. Yeah, like that, okay now make sure all of your blade is on the ice... perfect, keep your knees bent and your back upright so you don’t screw up your centre of gravity.” Jack explained as they went.

Hiccup gave a distracted, _did you just ‘lit’ me?_ which almost cost him his concentration, and he gave up talking again. On the bright side, the brunette was looking less at their feet and more at the path ahead of them now, which was already an improvement. It showed that Hiccup was trusting himself and Jack.

“This is really difficult with a fake limb, you know.” Hiccup squeaked when his skate caught on a notch in the rink for the umpteenth time.

Jack nodded. “Let me know if you need to get off the ice. You’re doing pretty great so far.” He piped, hoping to convey his appreciation for Hiccup in that moment.

“No, no I should be fine. I really want to do this now,” Hiccup grinned, looking to Jack. “You’ve got the idea in my head. Plus you make it seem really easy.”

“Well I’ve been doing it for...” He had no idea. “A while now. I should hope I do. I’m basically an ice fairy.” Jack took the opportunity to boast, knowing it would spark Hiccup’s natural wit.

“You are _literally_  an ice fairy. Skating has _nothing_  to do with that.” The brunet snorted.

“Oh wow Hiccup, I really don’t know whether to feel offended or complimented.”

“Yes.”

Jack snorted with laughter. “What does that mean?”

“I’m just generally agreeing with both of the things you said.” Hiccup shrugged in a ‘so-so’ manner.

Jack ‘pfft’-ed back at him.

“That doesn’t work. Also, look, you’re skating. Sort of.” The white-haired student motioned at their feet.

It wasn’t brilliant, and they were going pretty slow, but Hiccup hadn’t stumbled for at least a few metres now. 

Hiccup made a strange noise beside him, kind of like a weird hybrid of a throat clearing and a distressed whale.

“Oh no, why would you bring my attention to that. Now I’m going to start screwing it up again.” He complained, incredibly ungratefully.

“Oi! You’re welcome.”

“Yeah thanks,” was Hiccup’s answer, sounding undoubtably _un_ thankful.

Jack snorted. “Geez, what does a guy have to do to get a little attention around here?”

“Oh, bite me. Now shut up and teach me, nerd.” Hiccup said flatly.

“Low blow. You know, name-calling is the most desperate form of insult.” Jack replied matter-of-factly.

Hiccup narrowed his eyes at the other and Jack realised that if they weren’t holding hands and Hiccup wasn’t currently trying so hard to keep his balance, he probably would have been cuffed on the shoulder.

“Okay, okay I’m teaching already,” Jack waved his free hand in mock defeat. Nonetheless, his face wouldn’t stop smiling.

“Try and stop doing such small steps, it’ll probably make it seem harder to control, start doing bigger ones and focus on getting your gliding down.” Jack encouraged not unkindly.

“Good, now lean a little to the left...”

The two continued on, Hiccup’s condition of “one hour only” being well and truly ignored, neither of them saying anything when it was silently abolished as two hours ticked by. By the end of two and a half hours, the five minute warning bell sounded to let the skaters know their time was almost up. Jack and Hiccup had made substantial progress considering Hiccup had barely wanted to let go of the barrier at first. Also taking into account the artist’s lack of general coordination or awareness of surroundings, Jack labelled the day’s lessons to be a rousing success.

 

 

* * *

 

  

Back within the safety of their apartment building, the two boys giggled uncontrollably at their own antics, still on a high from spending their entire afternoon skating, shopping, and eating cheap takeaway in crowded foodcourts.

Next to Jack, Hiccup was laughing as he recalled the moment when he had slipped over dramatically in the ice rink, grabbing on to the only solid thing within reach (Jack) and pulling it down with him. The two of them had gone down in a spectacular heap of limbs, Hiccup’s face in particular becoming very intimate acquaintances with the ice. Hiccup had apologised profusely to his partner, feeling guilty about dragging him down as well, but Jack had merely sat on the ground and laughed his ass off. Poor Hiccup. Jack had given him his hooded sweatshirt after that, since he felt a little bad about Hiccup being in short sleeves and having to fall hard and painfully onto the cold ice. Hiccup initially protested that Jack would then only be hurting himself on the frozen-solid surface if he fell over; but then Jack gave him an unimpressed look which had Hiccup blushing and sheepishly accepting the article of clothing.

Jack swung their intertwined hands back and forth, grinning brightly from ear to ear. The light streaming in through the window at the end of the hall framed the brunet perfectly in a lustrous gold, like the detailing in an old Victorian portrait, and the blue of Jack’s hoodie brought out the green in his eyes. Jack felt his heart skip a beat or a few. He was so glad to have Hiccup, his pretty other half and oh wow, Hiccup made him cheesy. And happy. He mostly just made Jack happy.

 _Gross_. He laughed at himself, but also a little bit at the brunet at the pinnacle of his thoughts, too. He really was a clutz, it was a miracle he still had all his fingers and at least half his toes.

Overcome by an irrational need to be closer to his boyfriend, Jack squeezed his hand and leaned over, planting a chaste kiss to the side of his face.

“You’re such a clumsy dork.” He said, as though he wasn’t already being lovesick enough.

_Oops._

Thankfully Hiccup was just as head over heels as he, and so graciously never brought it up.

Hiccup scowled, but it didn’t have its usual gusto. His expression was softer.

“And you are a rat. You stupidly good ice skater.”

Jack reeled back and barked a laugh that was just a teensy bit too loud.

“You know, you and I have very different ideas on the meaning of ‘thank you’.” He raised an eyebrow.

Hiccup waved him off nonchalantly, stepping into the space in front of their door and shoving the key into the lock. Unfortunately this action meant the pair letting go of each other’s hands.

Inside their home was clean (mostly. It’s really up to the eye of the beholder.) and cosy, all pale walls, wide windows and varnished floorboards. Jack liked it because, besides the brown-haired man himself, it was like owning something specially _his_ and _Hiccup’s_. Upon entering, Jack immediately made his way into the kitchen and yanked open the tea cupboard.

Hiccup, on the other hand, was hurriedly moving over to his small, make-do art studio, which was actually more of a desk, some tall shelves stuffed with supplies, and an easel or two. They didn’t really have the space or money to spare in order to invest in a bigger work area, but it was already a huge step up from the one multi-purpose table and small box that Hiccup had before moving out, and he wasn’t about to be ungrateful for what he’d gotten now. Never look a gift horse in the mouth and all that. Enthusiastically, Hiccup pulled his new paints out of their box and unwrapped the small, half pans of pigment.

After some scuffling around in the ceramics cupboard, the rushing noise of the tap and a _click_ from the kettle, Jack was half watching Hiccup (because really, he was just _so_  cute when he was this excited) and half concentrating on scooping the right amount of loose-leaf from the tin.

In the other room, Hiccup was back to smearing the watery pigment across his paper with much less tension this time. Jack smiled.

The switch on the electric kettle flicked itself off and Jack hastily poured the contents into his mug, narrowly avoiding a splash of boiling water to the hand. Boiling water, in Jack’s opinion, was the absolute worst form of water, closely followed by steam. It’s only redeeming quality was its ability to make tea and coffee. Jack sniffed. He would much rather a cube of ice. Or a whole rink. Steam was just weird; misty tendrils snaking and gliding across skin, burning yet barely touching. They seemed as though they were undecided about whether they wanted to be tangible or intangible. It was ghostly, in a very vague kind of way.

 _It’s really not that complicated,_ Hiccup would tell him, _it’s just science._  But he never said anything past that, because unlike Jack he knew the real reason why the blue-eyed young adult felt such a way.

Science notwithstanding, ice was much more comforting. It was reliable and assured. It tugged strangely in Jack’s chest, and gave him a sense of belonging that manifested itself deep within his heart, to the point where he could not reach it to identify it. He had a feeling that was tied to a far away memory clouded with thick fog, but if he had ever remembered it, he certainly didn’t anymore. Of course, friends and doctors had tried to tell him, but he had refused them every time. He somehow felt responsible for his memory, and also felt that it was his burden alone to get them back.

Not that he was burdened by them. They just proved a minor inconvenience at the best of times.

Nevertheless, they were his.

Shaking himself to get rid of the heavy blanket of drowsiness that comes wth daydreaming for too long, Jack dumped the strainer in the sink to be cleaned later and headed over to Hiccup in the lounge room. He set his mug down on the coffee table and plonked heavily into one of the comfy couches, pulling his phone from his pocket and going back to scrolling through social media.

Without really looking up, Jack distractedly reached over for his cup and ended up downing it over the course of a dozen or two minutes, mostly ignoring the scalding temperature of the water as it burned his tongue. He scoffed as Elon Musk’s name showed up on his feed for the second time in the last hour. Man, there was a lot of useless junk on the internet.

Somehow, during his surfing, he managed to end up on the floor again, back against the carpet. Jack shut off his phone and shoved it face down in the general direction of the couch he had previously been occupying. The white-haired man audibly sighed.

Hiccup spared him the briefest of glances over his page. He appeared to be washing up his brushes and tucking them back into their case. The brunet hummed a flat tune as he opened a large art book and cleanly pulled out several blank pages. Setting them down on the desk, he left to disappear into the kitchen. There was a rummaging sound and then the noise of running water filling a container. Hiccup wandered back to his desk carefully holding a wide, flat Tupperware box, sloshing with clear water. Jack sat up, and openly stared while Hiccup took one of the loose sheets of paper and started dunking it in the water in a way that seemed entirely pureposeful.

“What are you doing?” Jack asked, craning his neck to see over the edge of the table.

Hiccup didn’t look up right away. “I’m stretching my paper.”

Jack wondered why he asked.

“Um. Oh, okay. By the way,” He redirected the topic. “I think I deserve a thank you. For the tremendous help I gave you today. Multiple times, might I add.”

He was fishing for trouble now, but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t his fault he liked Hiccup’s attention. Plus, Hiccup was the best to rile up.

“I would have got it eventually.” The brunet tolled his eyes. “The watercolour dilemma that is. Your advice was just a fluke and we both know it.” He said pointedly.

Hiccup taped the wet paper to a block of cured wood.

“Well, okay. I’m not going to pretend you’re wrong there. But what about ice skating? That was all me! And I was brilliant!” He scrambled to his feet, gesturing with his arms.

Hiccup hummed in mock consideration, tapping a finger against his lips. “I don’t know. That was hardly my choice. You totally forced me into that.”

“What? Did not!” The blonde shook his head. “Hiccup, you’re being irrational.”

Hiccup caved with an exasperated sigh. “Oh fine, settle down.”

And yet Jack was _entirely unprepared_  when Hiccup suddenly rounded the desk and shoved his boyfriend back into the couch a little too roughly and settled himself over his thighs. The blonde spluttered like a fish and felt his face flare up in colour without his explicit consent.

And then Hiccup proceeded to knock the breath out of him by crashing their lips together. Hard. Nimble hands reached up and carded through white tresses, tugging gently. It wasn’t the first time they’d kissed, not by a long shot, yet it still took Jack an embarrassing all of about ten seconds to recover and reciprocate. Could he really be blamed though?—ten seconds was stellar recovery time when someone like _Hiccup_ was straddling you and trying to kill you through means of asphyxiation via mouth to mouth contact.

Said man’s mouth was warm and wet against Jack’s, and Jack felt the light pressure of a tongue prod at his lips. The bleached-blonde parted them to allow entry and feverishly pushed back with equal enthusiasm.

Cool hands, damp from the water now sitting abandoned in it’s tub, left Jack’s hair and trailed south, dragging down his ribs and slipping under his shirt. A tiny moan slipped past Jack, which caused Hiccup to exhale in amusement, biting down hard on the former’s lip. The hands continued their search, roughly gliding across the pale skin of Jack’s ribs and abdomen, leaving no curve untouched. The muscles under Hiccup’s fingers reflexively tensed, arching forward desperately.

Hiccup’s lips and tongue separated from Jack’s, granting him the chance to actually _breathe_ , and dived down to instead attach themselves to his neck. Teeth scraped against his throat which made the white-haired male gasp and dig fingers into his mousy roommate’s hips. An especially hard bite to Jack’s shoulder made him groan a curse. That little shit was going to give him some very flashy bruises, and he knew it too, the rat. Unfortunately for Jack’s future self, the body pressing deliciously against his was rendering him unable to care at that moment.

Then Hiccup rolled his hips and Jack jolted, his grip faltering.

“What the  _fuck_ , Haddock,” Jack whined.

The brunet hummed and kissed him soundly on the lips, although not nearly for long enough, before he fucking _got up_  and _left him there_   _on the couch_.

“Wh- hey! You ass! What the fuck? Don’t you dare walk away. _Hey!_ You can’t do that!” Jack protested indignantly and ran a shaky hand through his dishevelled hair. Damn, Hiccup was fucking _cruel._

The latter didn’t have the decency to hide his wretched cackle as he retreated into the kitchen with his stupid Tupperware container. Jack only got some satisfaction out of the knowledge that Hiccup had just as much of a problem between his legs as Jack did.

“Ugh. You’re absolutely awful. That was the worst thank you ever. You should be ashamed. And how am I supposed to explain these bright, very noticeable _hickeys_ , Hiccup?” The blonde continued grumbling.

Hiccup laughed, _again_ , the termite. Jack heard footsteps and a second later arms were sliding around his shoulders from behind, a face burying itself in his white hair.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’m terrible and all that, but you’re just too funny, you stupid snowflake. I’ll make it up to you later. Right now though, I have to keep working on my stuff. Seriously, you’ve been distracting me all day, I’m going to run out of daylight.” Hiccup apologised and shook his head, planting a kiss to the other’s cheek.

Jack crossed his arms moodily and pulled his legs up in a foetal position.

“You better.”

Hiccup sniggered to himself and left Jack to go sit behind his desk once more and smear paint across his canvas in an unorderly fashion.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When at about half past 7 o’clock the sun had well cleared the windows by the brunet’s work space, and he’d likely have to turn on the lights soon if he were to keep going, Hiccup ran a hand down his face and sighed as he started to pack up.

“Are you hungry for dinner yet?” Hiccup mused.

When he looked up however, his expression softened when he found his boyfriend lying fast asleep across the two-seater couch, thin fingers clutching at a pillow. Hiccup grinned and finished putting away his brushes so he could get up and stop beside Jack on the sofa. Tugging at the hem of the deep blue hoodie that he was still wearing, Hiccup tugged it off and over his head, laying it across Jack’s shoulders. He bent down to kiss his forehead and left him to wander into the kitchen to make something for the two of them for dinner. He figured he might as well just do it himself and let Jack sleep.

Hiccup wasn’t as good of a cook as Jack, unfortunately, and since the latter was sleeping, Hiccup’s only option was pasta. His spaghetti bolognese was—while good—still the only thing he could actually make well. That, and spaghetti carbonara.

The pasta sauce hissed and bubbled quietly in its pan while Hiccup switched off the stove and the fan above it. He had collected some plates out of the drawer when soft footfalls and a yawn sounded behind him.

Hiccup glanced around to find Jack standing sleepily in the middle of the tiled kitchen, wiping his eyes. The white-haired student wandered over and made himself comfortable by slipping his arms around Hiccup’s waist

“Enjoyed your beauty sleep, princess?” Hiccup grinned and dished out the spaghetti. “You’d better not keep me up tonight when you find you’re not tired.”

Jack mumbled something inaudibly into his boyfriend’s shirt. The blonde finally looked up again with an overly dramatic, tired sigh.

“Spaghetti again?”

“Yep. Sorry. It’s seriously the absolute extent of my culinary skills.”

“No, no,” Jack rushed to rephrase. “Your spaghetti bolognese is really good.”

Hiccup smiled and held a full plate out to his partner.

“Here you go, then. Bon appetite.”

Jack tried stifling another yawn, which had Hiccup chuckling to himself, and took the offered dish, finally pulling away. Hiccup immediately missed the comfort.

Grabbing a fork from the dish rack, Hiccup followed Jack out to the small dining table.

The two ate in relative silence, making occasional small talk which was mostly one-sided, since Jack was still being more or less incoherent.

When at one point, Jack almost ended up with his face on his plate, Hiccup decided it was time to step in.

“Alright, that’s enough, you’re going to bed.” Hiccup left no room for arguments as he took his and Jack’s dishes and rounded the countertop to wash them out. Initially, Jack whined out of what was probably habit, but apparently ultimately agreed, as he sat obediently in his chair without a single verbal protest such as, ‘but it’s not late enough yet’ or ‘you’re not the boss of me’.

“Come on,” Hiccup had come back to the dining area to nudge Jack’s shoulder. “Brush your teeth.”

This time the blonde did protest, and threw his head back in an emotional ‘ _ugh’._

“Stop complaining. I’m not getting into bed with someone who doesn’t brush their teeth.”

With a mumbled ‘fine’, Jack reluctantly got up and the two of them made their way to the bathroom. After some more nagging to get the tired young adult to clean his teeth properly, Hiccup finally accepted Jack’s job to be adequate enough after the second try, and practically dragged his boyfriend to their shared room to change and climb under the covers.

The moment Hiccup was lying horizontally with a blanket draped over him, Jack latched on to his night shirt and pulled the brunet into his personal space, shoving his face between the nook of Hiccup’s neck and clavicle.

“Remember that I have not forgotten the sex you owe me, and you will be making up for your shoddy "thank you" as soon as I’ve slept enough.” The blonde huffed.

Hiccup’s body shook as he snickered in the darkness, wrapping his arms tightly around his lanky boyfriend’s frame.

“I have no objections to make against that.”

“Fantastic. Now go to sleep.”

“Bossy.” Hiccup teased, kissing his way down to Jack’s mouth before resting his chin in white hair and pulling the other back in against his body.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to say I literally know nothing about anything to do with America IM SORRY i tried, but i just dont get some of the stuff that goes on there. So yeah. hopefully my antipodean ass isnt too obvious, sorry. I'm guessing it still all makes sense though, which is the important part.
> 
> EDIT: Also, it didn’t occur to me before, but I realise “fairy” could possibly be taken as a homophobic slur. I’d just like to clarify this isn’t at all the case. It was just a nudge and a wink at Jack’s actual, canon self, which is kind of akin to a winter fae or sprite (:


End file.
